Amy knew he was being eminently sensible. But forty-eight hours’ worth of post-birth hormones didn’t care. ‘I need to see my son.’
Something washed over Lincoln’s face. Guilt. Why did he feel guilty? ‘I know you do, Amy.’ His hand was still pressed next to hers. ‘Let me see what I can arrange. I promise you’ll see your son soon.’
For a second she thought he was going to bend over and kiss her. But he hesitated midway across the bed, pulling back and heading out the door in his green scrubs.
And that’s when the floodgates opened.
* * *
Two hours later she was ensconced in a side room. Lincoln pushed the neonate crib into the room and Amy’s breath caught in her throat. Her son.
That tiny little scrap she could see through the plastic was hers. Her baby. Wrapped in a pale blue blanket with a tiny knitted cap on his head. Fists punching angrily in the air. And a tiny plastic tube coming from his nose and taped to the side of his cheek.
Her breast ached. She wanted to feed her baby. She wanted to feel his little body next to hers. She could feel her lips tremble as Lincoln lifted him out of the crib and handed him to her.
Zachary gave a little groan and snuggled towards her—a natural response. She felt transfixed. His little eyes were screwed up, his skin pale just like hers, a few tiny strands of dark hair on his head. The wrinkled forehead smoothed out and his eyes blinked open, staring upright straight into her eyes. Her heart gave a little flutter at the blue eyes, then she realised that all babies were born with blue eyes. His eye colour could change over the next year. The thought brought a little smile to her face.
The next year. She was going to spend all that time with her son. She might have missed the first few days but there was nothing to stop her now. A little warmth spread across her chest. She lifted her finger and stroked it down her son’s button nose. He was all hers. Six years she’d waited for this moment, and now she finally had her child in her arms.
Lincoln shifted his feet beside her, obviously not wanting to interrupt her first few moments with her son. She blinked back the tears forming in her eyes. ‘Thank you for looking after him,’ she whispered.
He looked uncomfortable. He sat down in the chair next to her bed, bringing him level with her. ‘I need to tell you something.’
‘What?’ She couldn’t take her eyes from her son.
‘I couldn’t do what you wanted me to.’
Cassidy’s words started to float around her brain again. This time, though, they started to register. Something about Lincoln not being her baby’s doctor…
She found the little hospital band attached to his tiny wrist and rotated it. Baby Carson. Three pounds eight ounces. And his date of birth. Dr Lomax. Who was Dr Lomax?
A surge of anger struck her. Her cold stare fixed on Lincoln. ‘What is it you want to tell me, Lincoln?’
She could see the pain on his face. This wasn’t easy for him—but right now she didn’t care. She’d asked him to do one thing for her. One thing. She’d travelled miles to find him, to find the best doctor to look after her son—and now this.
He ran his fingers through his hair the way he always did when he was nervous. ‘I’m really sorry, Amy. This is all my fault. I should have kept a better eye on you—I shouldn’t have taken you out to dinner. This would never have happened if I’d kept in the role I should have—as the doctor for your son.’ He shook his head and lifted his eyes to meet hers. ‘But I just couldn’t.’
Amy took a breath. The air felt tight in her chest. ‘What do you mean, this is all your fault? How is any of this your fault? Lincoln, you let me stay in your apartment—you drove me to hospital every day, how can you possibly think this is your fault?’
‘Your headache. You told me you had a headache and I ignored the signs, something a doctor on his game would never have done. I could have got you to hospital sooner. I should have been paying attention.’
She shook her head. ‘I should have paid more attention. Not you. I’d had that headache all day, but I thought it was nothing. Cassidy warned me—she gave me a list of signs and symptoms to look out for, and told me to come straight back to hospital if I developed any of them. But it seemed so mild, so subtle. It didn’t even start to bother me until later in the day. I honestly thought it was just a headache. I never thought it would lead to this.’ She glanced down at the bundle in her arms. ‘Do you honestly think I would have put my son at risk? The headache was so mild that I hadn’t even thought about taking anything until we were out. Up until then it really felt like nothing.’
The lines in his forehead were deeper than normal. She was doing nothing to alleviate his guilt. What else did he want to tell her?
Lincoln leaned forward in the chair, resting his arms on the side of her bed. ‘When I saw you seizing…it was the worst five minutes of my life. By the time we got here and stabilised you then made the decision to take you to Theatre, I knew I couldn’t be Zach’s doctor.’
‘What do you mean, you couldn’t be my son’s doctor?’ Her voice had a cold, hard edge to it. ‘It was the one thing I asked you to do for me, Lincoln. It was the only thing I asked you to do for me.’
‘I know, I know.’ The anguish in his voice was apparent, and she knew he was struggling to find the words.
‘Who is Dr Lomax, Lincoln?’
‘He’s my colleague. My friend—someone I would trust with my child’s life. As soon as I held Zach in my arms in Theatre, I knew I had to get someone else to do the job. I couldn’t think straight. I couldn’t think like a doctor while I was looking at him. I couldn’t be the professional that I needed to be. I couldn’t step back and see the wider picture. All I could see was the woman I loved lying on the operating table and her twenty-nine-week-old son in my hands. I knew I had to get someone else to do the job.’
His words hung in the air.
He loved her. He’d said it. Words that she’d been waiting to hear. So why wasn’t she jumping for joy? Why wasn’t she shouting it from the rooftops?
He was looking at her, waiting for her to respond. She tried to sort out her brain. She wanted to tell him that she loved him too. But something was stopping her. Something was pressing down on her chest, willing her not to say those words.
She kept her eyes on her baby. She didn’t want to look at those dark-rimmed blue eyes. She didn’t want them to pull her in and say something she would later regret.
Her son was staring up at her. Could he see her yet? Could he see the anguish on her face? How well could a twenty-nine-weeker see?
‘Cassidy said that you’d looked after him, that you’d done kangaroo care. That you hadn’t left his side for forty-eight hours.’
‘I couldn’t be his doctor, Amy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care—it means I care too much. I didn’t want anyone else to do his care. I wanted to be by his side. I wanted to watch over him. I wanted to feed him.’
A single tear slid down her face. It was just as she’d feared. He was professing not only his love for her but for Zach too. This should be what happy endings were about. But she still couldn’t lift her head to meet his gaze.
Her feelings for him were so strong. Since the first time she’d seen him again, all her thoughts and memories of him had increased tenfold. He was everything she could ever want.
But what did that make her to him?
She didn’t want to be his charity case. His poor ex with a baby he felt sorry for. He was feeling guilty right now. Guilt that he was confusing with love. He didn’t love her. She wasn’t the whole, healthy woman she’d been before.
She was damaged goods. Her body would never be the same again, even if she had the reconstruction surgery.
And Zach was it for her. She would never be able to have more natural kids. Her eggs were gone. Finis
hed. And Lincoln…he was just starting out. He should have a whole brood of children of his own. And a happy, healthy wife who could give them to him.
She didn’t want him to settle. She didn’t want him to settle for her and Zachary. Even though it could make her happier than she’d thought possible, she wanted him to have the chance at life that she’d missed out on.
He stood up and moved to the side of the bed, sliding his arm around her shoulders and bending over to look down at Zach. ‘Do you feel well enough to try the kangaroo care for a little while? Do you think you could manage him strapped next to your chest?’
She nodded. She couldn’t speak right now. Words were just too difficult. He’d just stood up, not waiting for a response from her. He seemed to accept that she couldn’t say the ‘I love you’ words back. What did that mean?
‘Do you need some analgesia for your section wound before we start?’
She shook her head. The Caesarean section wound wasn’t nearly as painful as she’d imagined. Maybe being unconscious for the first forty-eight hours had helped. The nurse had given her a couple of painkillers when she’d woken up and she felt fine.
Lincoln rummaged around in her locker. ‘Let’s find you something else to wear. That hospital gown won’t do.’
He was right. The traditional hospital gown, with its Velcro fastenings at the back, wouldn’t suit. He pulled out a pair of loose yellow jersey pyjamas, with buttons down the front. ‘What about these?’
Amy nodded her head. Her tiny son was still in her arms. A nurse came into the room and between her and Lincoln they helped Amy freshen up and then secure her son next to her.
The next few hours passed swiftly. Amy tried to get her tiny son to latch onto her breast, and when that failed, she managed to express some of her milk to feed to him via the tiny tube down his nose. The nurse rechecked her vital signs and reduced some of her IV infusions.
Cassidy came and checked on her twice. She talked her through the events and her subsequent care, warning her that women could still have seizures after delivery and that she would need to be observed for the next few days.
And Lincoln floated in and out of her room all day, taking Zachary back to the nursery for a spell then bringing him back to her later.
It was almost as if the words hadn’t been spoken—or never been heard. Life was beginning to tick along as normal. Why did that make her feel so empty inside?
* * *
Lincoln wheeled the cot back along the corridor to NICU. Zachary was doing well and seemed a little brighter since his mother had woken up. Although he hadn’t managed to latch on today, there was every chance that he’d start breastfeeding soon and then his tube could be removed.
So why did life feel at a standstill?
For Lincoln, the instant feeling of relief when Amy had woken up had now been replaced by a feeling of worthlessness. She didn’t blame him for her deterioration, she hadn’t even been too angry when he’d told her he couldn’t be Zachary’s doctor. In fact, she’d hardly said anything, even after his heart had been in his throat and he’d said those words. The I love you words.
And there had been nothing—no response. It was almost as if he hadn’t spoken.
Lincoln looked at the little baby lying in the crib beneath him. Zachary Carson. Every day he grew more attached. Every day he noticed something else about the little guy. Something new.
But what if this was a recipe for disaster? Amy had never said anything to make him think she was looking for anything else from him.
He still couldn’t get to the bottom of what Amy wanted and it frustrated him beyond belief. She’d come here saying she wanted his skills and expertise as a doctor. But from the moment they’d set eyes on each other again, the tension in the air had been palpable.
He loved it that she was unpredictable. He loved it that she flirted with him. He loved it that they still seemed to fit together like pieces in a jigsaw puzzle.
But Amy was different too. Illness had changed her. A high-risk pregnancy had changed her. She wasn’t as confident as she used to be. Sure, he knew that her body had changed, but something else had changed deep inside her. Was it her feelings of self-worth? He just couldn’t put his finger on it. He couldn’t really understand. And it was making him tiptoe around about her, something he’d never had to do before.
Then there was the guilt. Guilt that she’d come to him for help and he’d let her down. He’d let his guard down. He didn’t want to be Amy’s son’s doctor.
One of the NICU nurses walked past and gave him a little smile. Carrie. Blonde. Cute. Nice butt. The old Lincoln would have chased her out the door. The old Lincoln would have had her number in his phone in two minutes flat.
Lincoln moved into autopilot. He lifted Zachary from the crib, strapped him to his chest and nestled him under his shirt.
He had absolutely no doubt about where he wanted to be. The effect of seeing Amy again after six years had been like a punch to the face. No woman had made him feel the way she did. He hadn’t recognised love because he’d never felt it before. He didn’t know what to say to her, when to back off, or when to move closer.
This was a steep learning curve.
But he’d never been one to shirk a challenge—and this was one thing he was determined to master.
CHAPTER NINE
AMY swallowed nervously as she climbed the steps towards the apartment. Her arms couldn’t hide the slight tremor in them as she carried her precious bundle upstairs to the place she was currently calling ‘home’.
This was nothing like she’d imagined. Zachary was six weeks old—he shouldn’t even have been born yet. But his feeding and weight gain had been sufficient for him to be discharged from San Francisco’s Children’s Hospital. His skin had lost that translucent look and his little body had finally managed to store a tiny amount of fat and fill out a little.
His wide blue eyes had obviously started to focus and she could see him studying her face at times and reacting to her expressions. And at five pounds he was even big enough to wear some of the premature baby clothes she’d carefully folded in a drawer in Lincoln’s apartment.
But all of this still unsettled her. She was in San Francisco—this wasn’t home to her—but it could be. The longer she stayed here, the more she loved this city, from its quirky visitors and attractions to its deep-rooted history and traditions. She loved looking over to the Golden Gate Bridge, she loved the bustling people around Pier 39. She loved the rattle of the cable cars. And most of all she loved the staff attached to San Francisco’s Children and Maternity Hospital. Unlike most hospitals, she’d yet to meet a member of staff who hadn’t been warm and friendly, who hadn’t made her feel at home. She was sure that being a good friend of one the consultants helped. But it was also a place she could see a future in, a place where she would be happy to go to work. So why the strange feeling in her stomach?
Lincoln had arranged for Zachary’s baby items to be delivered to San Francisco from Santa Maria. Literally overnight the white wooden baby crib and chest of drawers had appeared in her bedroom in Lincoln’s apartment. The zebra-print baby seat was currently sitting next to the sofa in the living room. And the red pram was parked at the bottom of the stairs. All awaiting the arrival of baby Zachary.
She thought that she would have loved this moment. To finally bring her son home from hospital was a huge step. She should be singing from the rooftops. She should be telling the whole world that Zach was well enough to come home. But she wasn’t. She couldn’t.
She was nervous. She felt sick. Her stomach was churning. Was this new-mother nerves? Or something else?
The patient, easily accessible staff in the NICU were no longer by her side. The emergency monitors and equipment were no longer ready to be pulled over at a moment’s notice. All the little
queries or insecurities she’d had in the last few weeks couldn’t be answered by another person in the room. Or could they?
Because Lincoln was here with her. Lincoln hadn’t left her side. Or Zachary’s.
He’d done everything he could to help her. He’d bent over backwards to be accommodating. And as much as she was grateful, it was going to make it so much harder to say goodbye…
Because right now she knew that was what she had to do.
Lincoln slid his key into the lock in the door and pushed the buttons to turn off the alarm. He held the door wide for her. She gave a little smile and carried Zachary into the apartment, walking over to one of the huge windows. ‘What do you think, Zach? Do you like this place?’
Because she certainly did. So why did she feel as if she had to leave? Why, when the man of her dreams was offering her love, did she feel as if she had to retreat to the distant hills? Why did she feel that she couldn’t even enter into a discussion with him?
She carried Zach through to the bedroom. ‘Here’s your crib, right next to Mommy’s bed. I’ll be able to stick my hand through and hold your hand.’ She held him up to look, but Zach just blinked.
Her attention was caught by something new. ‘Wow, look at this.’ She leaned over and touched the mobile hanging above the crib and turned on the music. The soft, multicoloured animals started to spin around to ‘Nelly the Elephant’. ‘Did you get this?’ she asked Lincoln.
He nodded slowly, folding his arms and leaning against the doorpost. ‘Colour and noise are supposed to stimulate babies.’ That smile again. That smile that drew you in and held you there. Held you with those dark blue eyes.
Being around him was good. His easy way and infectious laugh made her feel comfortable. She’d fallen asleep in his arms several times over the last few weeks, resting in the chairs next to Zachary’s crib in NICU, and woken to find her head on his chest and her arms wrapped around him.
West Wing to Maternity Wing! Page 14
